


indulgence of a sort

by Rag



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Humiliation, Masturbation, Name-Calling, Omorashi, Other, Self-Indulgent, Trans Character, Urination, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-22 20:49:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9624818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rag/pseuds/Rag
Summary: Erwin pours a glass and drinks it quickly.  He’d been holding back for a few hours, and already feels a little burn between his legs.  He sets his week-dirtied sheets and pillow on the stone floor and sits down on his makeshift bed.Filthy.  He’s a filthy man, indulging a filthy habit.He pours himself another glass.(omorashi fic)





	

**Author's Note:**

> mind the tags, this is a story about a man jerking off in a puddle of his own piss while insulting himself in his head. if that is going to squick you out, don't read this.

It’d been over three months since it’d he'd had time for this. He’s ready for it, had poured himself a jug of water from the bath spout a few hours ago, just in case. For the laundry, he would have explained, had he seen anyone on his return. He hadn’t.

He pours a glass and drinks it quickly. He’d been holding back for a few hours, and already feels a little burn between his legs. He sets his week-dirtied sheets and pillow on the stone floor and sits down on his makeshift bed.

Filthy. He’s a filthy man, indulging a filthy habit.

He pours himself another glass.

He’d discovered it by accident, years ago. One thing had led to another, and before he knew it, he’d gone almost twelve hours without release. When he was finally able to make it to the bathrooms, the doors were locked. He knew it must have been a janitorial accident, and that telling any staff would clear up the issue, but he wasn’t sure if he’d last another minute. He ran outside. He made it to the bushes and dropped his pants in the knick of time, and was struck by the most incredible crash of pleasure he’d ever experienced. He moaned into the bushes as he fell on his knees, piss streaming between his legs.

When he was done, he realized he was wet with more than urine, that his skin was flushed with more than just relief. He masturbated twice before he felt calm enough to pull his pants back on and head back inside, praying that no one had heard him.

He’d been careless, that time. Lucky. He’d since figured several methods to indulge it without the unpleasant fear of discovery. Rainy laundry days were his favorite.

Erwin feels himself fill up on his third glass and pushes the jug away. He lays down on the bed and closes his eyes, listening to the soft staccato beats of rainwater against his window.

The burn in his bladder grows slowly more insistent. Erwin takes a deep breath and runs his hand down his shirt, his abdomen, his stomach. He unzips his pants and dips his fingertips past his briefs. The skin of his lower stomach feels just a bit swollen.

Erwin presses down, gentle and firm, and gasps at the sharp pain. He pulls away for now, waits for it to build a bit more. 

He misses being able to press down against his bladder with one hand and rub his clit with the other, but he’s figuring ways to make do with what he has. He palms himself slowly, then sucks his stomach in. He groans quietly from the intensity, and again at the warmth between his legs. It was harder to control than the pressure of his hand, but still, he was already leaking like an old faucet, dripping incessantly, uncontrollably as the rain. What would his subordinates think, if they knew what a foul, swollen, leaking mess their Commander was right now?

Erwin presses his stomach as best he can with his forearm and starts rubbing himself to the thought. Pathetic. Commander Smith needs a diaper, so he’ll stop leaking all over the floor. Can’t even hold his piss inside, what a dirty, disgusting old man.

Erwin tries to bite his hand as he comes, but nothing meets his lips. He turns quickly against his pillow as soon as he realizes, mashing his face down. He feels a tight little stream escape his piss hole as his clit spasms. He won’t last much longer, not more than ten minutes.

He turns back on his side and pushes away the unnerving phantom feeling of his arm. He’ll think about that later, if he decides to, but not now. That’s not what this is for. He thinks instead about all the water in his stomach, desperate to leave him. It’s becoming more and more of a fight with every passing breath, and soon, it’s all he can think of.

He begs inside his head. Please, please, no. Not this. I can’t. Please don’t. No, no no. Please, God, no. He’s never considered to who he’s begging to, or for what, but just the thought of it makes it so much more wonderfully unbearable. He feels his lips moving, begging nonsense to no one, shuddering as his body heedlessly ignores his words, It knows what he really wants, knows the game he’s playing.

A fat glob of piss leaks out from him and he starts rocking, desperately trying to hold out a few more seconds. And in those seconds, with a trembling arm, Erwin forces his hand back down over his stomach.

He presses.

He moans openly as the relief hits him, sharp and beautiful and mind-numbingly intense. The urine quickly soaks through the front of his pants and to the back, warming his buttocks. The stream gets faster as it goes, an impossible amount flooding out from his body onto the floor around him. The sheets don’t come close to soaking up the mess, and Erwin frantically shoves his hand back in his pants as a filthy stream trickles on the rocks beside him.

He gets himself off again, his fingers soaked and filthy, his clothes making revolting squishing sounds under him. He comes surrounded in his filth, and relishes the afterglow in the itchy, stinking mess he made of his room.

Eventually, he’s ready to get up. He sops his mess off the floor with the sheet- filthy- and puts it in the half-full washbucket. He’ll disinfect the rocks after his clothes were attended to.

Hanji used to question why he insisted on washing his own laundry. He said it was absurd to waste time on a task the Corps employed common people to do for them, even if it was only an hour a week. Erwin hadn’t bothered with an excuse, but Levi told Hanji to cram it, that someone who hadn’t showered this week couldn’t possibly understand why someone would take these matters into their own hands. He thought Erwin was so impeccably clean that he simply couldn’t stand to suffer someone touching his clothing. He thought they had that in common.

Erwin smirks to himself as he scrubs the piss out of his trousers.

He feels like a tremendous weight had been taken off his shoulders. He’ll need a shower as soon as he can get it, but for the first time in months, he feels a bit more prepared to take on whatever trials the day might bring.

**Author's Note:**

> *emerges from the crypt to re-post something from a year ago because i deleted it from tumblr and no longer have up anywhere*  
> *waves*
> 
> i've started writing again but not for SNK anymore  
> new stuff will likely come soon for KS and Voltron, gonna be tonally dissonant from my old stuff


End file.
